Love Trilogy
by MusicalCatharsis
Summary: Penelope remembers back on her time with Luke, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong, and to see if she can ever go back home.
1. I Loved You

Italicized words are from Taylor Swift's The Way I Loved You

Penelope trails her index finger around the rim of her wine glass. She can't help how bored she feels as she stifles another yawn from her mouth. The man sitting across from her was everything she should have wanted in a partner, he was kind and sensitive. He held her door open for her, pulled out her seat as she sat down fro dinner. He listened to her when she spoke and actually paid attention to the details in the conversation.

He was considerate, never came over without calling, and asked her if she needed anything before he showed up. He didn't grip her face between his hands and slam his mouth to hers in order to get her to stop rambling. He didn't rip her clothes off and push her to the brink of desire in the darkness of her office. He didn't drive her insane with thinly veiled jokes about what he planned to do to her the second they were alone.

The man sitting across from her was a Doctor, he was prim and proper, he didn't trail his fingers along her inner thigh and slide them into her. He didn't demand that she maintain her face as he slowly brought her to an orgasm while eating his dinner. He didn't take her in the backseat of his car in a darkened alley because he couldn't wait until they got home to bury himself inside of her.

He didn't do anything that caused her insides to clench and a delicious warmth to rush between her legs. He didn't cause any feelings to run through her body, but that's why she chose him.

Matthew wasn't Luke, and that was the point.

* * *

 _But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain. It's 2AM and I'm cursing your name. You're so in love that you act insane. And that's the way I loved you. I'm breaking down and coming undone. It's a roller-coaster kind of rush. And I never knew that I could feel that much. And that's the way I loved you._

* * *

"Do you want to try some of this salmon?" Penelope can't help herself from rolling her eyes and stabbing at her salad with her fork. She didn't know how many times she had to tell the man that she had been dating for months now that she was a Vegetarian by choice. She shakes her head, piling the food into her mouth to stop herself from screaming out in aggravation. "Oh, I'm sorry, I don't know why that keeps slipping my mind." Penelope chews her food slowly before reaching out to pick up her wine glass, bringing it to her lips and tasting the bitter red he insisted that they order. It was divine he had said, it tasted like shards of glass on her tongue.

"Excuse me," she mutters tossing her napkin onto the table by her half eaten salad and grabbing her purse. She walks slowly away from the table, her pace quickening the further away she got from the man. Penelope bumps into a woman making her way out of the bathroom, apologizing profusely while trying to hold in the tears. Her memory assaulting her at the last time she was sitting in this restaurant, eating the same meal that she was now, and the stifled argument that they had over their dinners.

Penelope remembers how he had pushed her up against the wall as he followed her into the bathroom, pressing his lips against her jaw and using his knee to pry her legs open. She remembers the rushed motions as she unbuckled his pants, and he placed her against the door to bar other people from walking into the room. She remembers the loud moans that fell from her lips, and the barely contained shouts of his name. Penelope remembers how he settled her on her feet, holding her steady as she righted her dress and controlled her breathing. She remembers the whispered _I love you_ as he tucked his shirt back into his pants.

Matthew wasn't Luke, she realized as she finished washing her hands in the sink, nobody entering the bathroom after her.

* * *

 _He can't see the smile that I'm faking, and my heart's not breaking, because I'm not feeling anything at all._

* * *

"Are you feeling okay?" Matthew asks when she slides back into her seat across from her, a wide smile on her face. She nods at the man, slipping her napkin back onto her lap and reaching out to grasp her wine glass, bringing it to her lips and finishing the contents, hiding a sniffle.

"I'm fine," she tells the man as she places her cup onto the table with too much force, a small droplet of the red wine hitting the white table cloth. Penelope watches as the wine spreads, staining the cloth with a sigh. She smiles up at the man sitting across from her, his bow tie immaculate under his chin, and picks up her fork. Penelope concentrates on spearing the lettuce onto the prongs, taking her time to chew the contents while looking out the window. Listening to the words coming from Matthew's lips, but not actually hearing them.

She remembers how Luke would chase her around the apartment, him in a pair of sweatpants and her in his t-shirt and a pair of panties. He would eventually catch her outside of the bathroom, tickling her sides and pulling her into his embrace while planting kisses over her face. Penelope remembered how the good days outweighed the bad, how they would spend lazy Sunday afternoons curled up on the couch watching something on the television. She remembers how she would always slide down the couch, her hands reaching into his pants to grip him. He would hold her head in place, lifting his hips in a tantalizingly slow rhythm as he thrusted into her mouth. He would brush her hair out of her face and whisper loving words to her as he emptied himself into her mouth, and she would find his face incredibly sexy as she swallowed.

She remembers how he would pick her up off of the floor, walking her to the bedroom with her legs wrapped around his waist. He would keep her there the rest of the day, both of them naked between the sheets, each of them battling the other for dominance. She remembers on those days how she would run the emotional gamut, realizing that all she ever wanted was the man holding her so delicately in his arms. Penelope would fall asleep in his arms, after he would make promises of everything that was to come for them, marriage, children, a bigger house. She believed every word he said.

"Penelope?" She blinks, the restaurant coming back into focus around her. She turns her head to the man, smiling softly at him, the emotion never reaching her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. Standing on two shaky legs and tossing her napkin on the table. "I have to go..."

Matthew wasn't Luke, she realized again, as she hailed down a cab in the pouring rain. Looking back to find the man still sitting at the table.

* * *

 _And you were wild and crazy. Just so frustrating, intoxicating, and complicated. Got away by some mistake and now, I'll be screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain. It's 2AM and I'm cursing your name. I'm so in love that I'm acting insane, and that's the way I loved you._

* * *

The lights are on when she pulls up in front of the house, and his truck in parked in the driveway. She knew his schedule, she still had the same one, and it hurt every damn day at work. Penelope reaches into her purse, tossing money at the taxi driver and peels her heels from her feet. She remembers the first time she walked up this stretch of pavement, giggling in her intoxicated state as she hopped from one stone to the next, his hand wrapped securely around her waist. She remembers how he had peeled the red dress from her body, kissing every inch of exposed skin he could come across. She takes a deep breath as she stands on the doorstep, her finger darting out to punch at the bell, in the pouring rain. Her hair is plastered around her shoulders, the purple dress she had quickly tossed on today clinging to her curves, and she can feel her mascara running down her face.

"I loved you," she whispers when he opens the door. "I really, truly, loved you."

He looks behind him into the house while stepping forward onto the step and into the rain, his bare feet squishing into the welcome mat she bought for him. He sighs, pulling her into his chest and pressing his lips to her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her lips. His hands coming out to cup her face, pulling her closer to him with each movement of his lips against her. Luke trails his thumb across her face, moving her hair off of her face with a groan. Penelope wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her face, her right hand pressing into his cheek. Her breasts heaving against his chest as he turns them, pressing her body against the door with a loud thud. He pulls back from her, shaking his head as he does so, a whisper falling from his mouth: "I know."


	2. Only Love

Italicized words are from Paloma Faith's Only Love Can Hurt Like This

* * *

"Oh, I'm so sorry..." Penelope exclaims as she reaches out to wipe at the person's chest she had just slammed into, crushing her coffee cup between them, and spilling the contents over both of their bodies. She's gone red in the face, her mind drawing a blank as she stares up into clear blue eyes, getting lost in their depths. His hands reach out to steady her, stopping her assault on his body with the napkins she grabbed from the nearest table. They were warm, she thought to herself, but not in the igniting fire along her skin way that she was used to. She remembers the way _his_ hands had caused her to sweat and be cold at the same time. The way he would leave a trail of goosebumps over her flesh, a pebbled road map to showcase where he had been.

"It's fine," the man replies, smiling down at her warmly, the bowtie tucked gently under his chin a sharp contrast to his darkened skin. She smiles back up at the man, offering to pay for his dry cleaning and to buy him a new coffee, even though it was hers that was spilt over the both of them. Penelope knows that she had never spilt coffee over Luke, but she had tossed a glass of water in his face after some insensitive comment fell from his lips. She remembers the playful smile that crossed his face as he wiped the liquid from his eyes, and she remembers fondly, the way he had taken her against the kitchen counter. "I'm Matthew," the man tells her, holding out his hand in order to shake hers. Penelope realizes that there's no shock of electricity, no fluttering of butterflies in her stomach, no instant need to wrap her legs around his waist.

"Penelope," she counters, ducking her head to hide underneath her hair. He was a good looking man, that she couldn't deny, but his eyes weren't brown, and they weren't staring at her with an intensity that made her squirm in her seat. They didn't cause a waterfall to erupt between her lower lips, they didn't cause her to want to be near him all the time. His voice was smooth to her ears, too smooth to be considered normal, and it didn't cause a shiver to run down her spine. It didn't cause her to close her eyes with a deep sigh as he coaxed her into sleep.

"Can I buy you a drink, tonight maybe?" Matthew looks down at her hopefully and she finds herself nodding, simply because he's not the man she keeps comparing him to. No, Matthew isn't Luke, she tells herself as she enters her number into his phone with trembling fingers. Luke would've gripped your waist and pulled you into his embrace by now, Luke would've tossed his coffee into the trash and bought you both new ones, Luke would've detoured back home to change clothes and fucked her in the hallway.

Luke was passion, but Luke was gone.

* * *

 _I tell myself you don't mean a thing, and what we've got, got no hold on me. But when you're not there I just crumble. I tell myself I don't care that much, but I feel like I die 'til I feel your touch._

* * *

She dresses silently for their first date, sliding a blue dress over her curves with a forlorn smile, not really convinced that she wanted to be going on this date. Her heart wasn't in it, but she should at least try. That's what she had told herself all day, what she had told JJ, what she had told Emily. It's the sentence that she uttered to Spencer as she watched Luke walk by her, his eyes roving from her head to her feet and back up again. It's the sentence she whispered as he undressed her in the span of a second, the glance causing her thighs to shake against the desk she was leaning on. It's the mantra she repeated as she stood next to him in the elevator, too close for comfort but not sure that she could step away from him.

The perfume she sprays onto her neck was his favorite, and she remembers that it used to drive him wild. The necklace she slides onto her neck was one that he had given to her a few months into their relationship. They were supposed to go out to dinner, but the sight of her in the short black dress caused the man to growl and gather her into his arms. He had peppered kisses along her collarbone, biting at the skin on her neck, roughly dragging the zipper of her dress down to expose her chest. She remembers the way he hiked the skirt of her dress up, turning her to face the wall as he slid into her. Yes, she remembers every single moment of their time together.

He picks her up in a fancy car, mumbling something about hand stitched leather, and she rolls her eyes. She misses stepping into the cab of a truck, pushing dog toys out of the way, and tossing her feet onto the dash. She loved riding with the windows down, the wind blowing into her hair, and belting out the lyrics to the song playing on the radio. She loved the feel of his warm hand sliding up her thigh as he steered the truck in and out of traffic, navigating the streets like he had lived here his entire life. She rolls her eyes as Matthew wipes the seat off when she exits the vehicle, leaving her to step onto the curb on her own, something Luke never let her do. He would always hoist her from the seat, planting her onto the sidewalk, and help her smooth her dress back over her legs. A jealous glare in his eyes at anyone who dared to look in her direction.

Matthew was kind, and attentive, and he said all the right things at exactly the right times. He poured her wine, stood when she approached and exited the table, and didn't talk too much about himself. He held the door open for her when she slid back into his ridiculous car, using his sleeve to wipe at the area her fingers slid across before walking back around to his side. He parked the car as close to the curb as possible outside of her house, walked her to the front door, and smiled so sweetly at her. Penelope tilts her head, waiting for a kiss on her lips that never came, instead his mouth falling to her cheek. He thanks her for a lovely evening, and promises to call her again. But Penelope remembers her first date with Luke, the desire to be close to him consuming her every cell as he pushed her against the door to her apartment. His lips hungrily kissing their way down her chin as she fumbled with her keys. She remembers the laughter that bubbled from her chest as he shoved the pink key into the hole, turning the metal and shoving the door open with a bang. She was sure there was a hole in the wall, but she didn't care as he kicked the door closed. Her hands were too busy pulling at his shirt, yanking it open, buttons scattering across her floor.

"I had a lovely time too," she tells him, smiling as she unlocks her door with the same pink key, a sense of loneliness cascading over her body as she enters the apartment and turns the lights on.

Luke was lust, but Luke was gone.

* * *

 _Say, I wouldn't care if you walked away, but every time you're there I'm begging you to stay. When you come close I just tremble, and every time, every time you go; it's like a knife that cuts right through my soul._

* * *

Her first fight with Matthew came after she introduced him to the team, she had stood a little too close to Luke, his arm a little too close to hers, his eyes a little too friendly as they roamed her body. It was the first time she had felt a fire with the man standing before her. He was disheveled with his bow tie undone, his suit jacket was tossed onto her couch, and her hands were balled into fists as he tried to convey to her exactly how he was feeling. Luke was always good at this part, she remembers, her mind traveling to the Hispanic man screaming at her in Spanish, his hands flying around his body. He would slam the pots and pans onto the stove before beginning to cook dinner, shouting at her as she packed her belongings in another room, with frustrated tears streaming down her face.

She remembers the last fight they had, the one that prompted them to finally call it quits. She couldn't remember what it was over now, something stupid about a box of macaroni and cheese which had sent her into a tail spin. He had left the dishes piled in the sink again, not rinsing out his dishes, and had proceeded to settle himself onto the couch siting exhaustion the moment he got home. She remembers seeing red, taking his favorite glass from the sink and letting it fall from her grasp. She watched as the cup shattered around her, glass flying everywhere, his attention finally on her. Penelope remembers wanting so badly to stop what she was doing, but she continued, reaching back in for plates, and bowls, and mugs.

"I can't live like this anymore," she had shouted to him as she rubbed her hands over her face, pulling the flower from her hair. "I just can't do this."

"Then don't Penelope," he countered snatching the broom and dustpan from the hall closet, angrily sweeping at the mess she had made. "If you're so unhappy then leave."

She remembers that she did leave, packing up what little belongings she had at his place and driving home to the apartment she paid for, but didn't live in. She remembers ignoring his phone calls, his texts, and his eventual banging at her door, begging her to come home. That it was just another stupid fight that they could get over. His yelling telling her that they could get over anything as long as they were together, and she wanted to believe him, honestly she did. Penelope can recall that she cried herself to sleep that night, sobbing into the pillow that still smelt of his shampoo. Wondering if she had made a mistake.

"Are you even listening to me?" Matthew says, his fists unclenching as he rubs at his eyes.

"Of course I am," she replies, her eyes filtering out of her window, sure that she can see a blue truck idling outside.

Luke was longing, but Luke was gone.

* * *

 _Your kisses burn into my skin, only love can hurt like this. But it's the sweetest pain, burning hot through my veins. Love is torture, makes me more sure, only love can hurt like this._

* * *

She walks Matthew to the door, her eyes landing on the familiar blue truck parked across the street, a hood pulled over his head to avoid recognition. Penelope watches as Matthew sits behind the wheel of his car, telling her that he will call her in the morning, and speeds off into the night. She stands, wrapping her cardigan around her shoulders, watching his tail lights disappear around the corner a few lights down. A calm settles over her as his hands land on her shoulders, his fingers sliding up and down her arms quickly. His face dips into the crook of her neck, puckering his lips and kissing the exposed skin.

Silently she breaks from his embrace, letting her fingers connect with his as she drags him through the hallways and into her home. She watches as he kicks the door shut, locking it behind him without looking, his eyes never leaving hers. Penelope reaches up to push her cardigan off of her shoulders, letting the material flutter to the floor with a resigned sigh. His hands turn off the lights, enveloping them in darkness, the small penguin in the corner the only source of dying light.

"Why do we always end up here?" Penelope closes her eyes, counting the many reasons she shouldn't be here in this position, the biggest one being her boyfriend. Her phone lights up in the distance, signifying that Matthew had arrived home safely, texting her like he always did. She takes a step forward, letting her fingers dance across his chest, sliding their way around his neck with a soft sigh.

"I can't quit you," she replies as his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her into his body, his lips crashing down onto hers with a needy moan.


	3. Return to Love

Warnings: Talks of Drowning.

Notes: Italicized words are from Taylor Swift's Back to December.

* * *

"How's Matthew," Luke yells over the clap of thunder that rolls around them, his hands still clutching her face. She nods, shrugging her shoulders and looks up at him with a soft smile. Penelope brings her right hand up to rub against his, trying to make sure that he was actually there with her.

"He's...he proposed this morning," she shouts back. Both of their eyes look down at the diamond gleaming on her finger. Sitting in the same spot that his ring used to, the one she tossed back at him as she raced from the house that last time. Penelope remembers how excited she had been when he rolled over in bed the morning be proposed, reaching into his night stand, and tossing a box at her. It wasn't mushy and dramatic, it wasn't over the top in front of family and friends, it was simple, passionate, dripping with desire like their entire relationship. She pulled the ring from the red velvet cushion it sat upon, the blue topaz blinking at her in the rising sunlight and slid it onto her finger. She remembers the first time they made love as an engaged couple, their minds blank as they clawed at each other, desperate to be closer than they ever had been.

"You said yes," he presses on. His thumbs wiping the rain drops from her cheeks as he stares intently down at her. His brown eyes so warm and expressive, just as she remembered they always were. She shakes her head, letting her eyes travel back down to the ring on her finger. The weight of it anchoring her to this spot, knowing full well that she shouldn't be here, but knowing full well that there was no where else she'd rather be.

"I didn't say anything," she tells him. "He told me to think about it, but I couldn't answer him because all I could think about was you." Penelope isn't sure when the tears had started, maybe they had been falling all along, but she lets out a sob, her body colliding with his as he wraps her in a hug. His muscled arms encircling her waist, and his right hand coming up to hold her head to his chest. She's not sure if he's sobbing too, but the way he moves against her was something she was used to, they'd been in a position like this before she realized. She doesn't want to remember those times. "How do I live without you, when you made me who I am?"

Luke was here. Matthew was not.

* * *

 _These days I haven't been sleeping, staying up playing back myself leaving. When your birthday passed and I didn't call. And I think of summer, all the beautiful times, I watched you laughing by the passenger side. And I realized I loved you in the fall. And then the cold came, the dark days when fear crept into my mind. You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye._

* * *

"I don't know," he answers her honestly, his lips hovering directly over her ear. She can hear the remorse in his voice, the warble that reaches her ears causes her to sob harder into his chest, her fingers clawing at the shirt sticking to his skin. Penelope looks up at the man, noticing how his hair clings to his forehead, the first and only time he would ever have straight locks. She reaches up to push the tendrils off of his face, her hand coming down to cup his cheek with a sad smile. She would recognize those eyes anywhere, they haunt her every waking hour, and they visit her every night in her dreams.

"Is she here?" Penelope asks, her eyes darting to the driveway, noticing the other car parked on the asphalt. "I'll leave if she is..." He shakes his head as his arms tighten around her waist. A silent plea for her to stay, to not leave him, not like that day. She remembers how hard it was for her to walk away from him, waiting until he had taken Roxy for a walk to pile her bags into her car and speed past him. The coward's way out, he had screamed at her through her apartment door, his voice going hoarse as he begged her to let him in. To talk to him, to let him make everything better. She didn't know how he could, didn't know if he could ever fill the hole in her heart, didn't know if he could ever repair the damage that had already been done.

"We were in the middle of -" she pulls back from him, suddenly cold in his embrace and looks horrified at the face in the open doorway. The woman had beautiful blue eyes, brown hair, and a slim figure. She was nice, too nice, nicer than Penelope, and that was an accomplishment if she had ever seen one. She opens her mouth to apologize to the other woman, to explain why she was standing on her boyfriend's door step in a tight dress in the rain. Penelope opens her mouth, an excuse on the tip of her tongue to explain why she was monopolizing their time together. Penelope opens her mouth but then closes it, picksup her belongings and turns to walk away.

Luke wasn't here, not for her, not anymore.

* * *

 _I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me, so right. And how you held me in your arms that September night; the first time you ever saw me cry. Maybe this is wishful thinking, probably mindless dreaming, but if we loved again I swear I'd love you right. I'd go back in time and change it but I can't, so if the chain is on your door, I understand._

* * *

Penelope walks, her bare feet splashing into puddles with her purse and her heels wrapped around her like a shield. She remembers that her son was born on a day like today in July, when the sun was supposed to be positioned highest in the sky. He had ten fingers. He had ten toes. He had two eyes and a perfect button nose. She remembers that he looked exactly like his father, dark hair, dark eyes, and a hungry stare. She remembers the wails he emitted as soon as he exited her body. She remembers the feel of him as he lay on her chest, his tiny hands reaching out to her. She remembers as her knees hit the pavement, she remembers.

What she doesn't remember is how she ended up here, alone in the middle of a rainstorm, clutching a pair of heels to her chest. What she doesn't remember is how she had made so many choices to drive the father of her child from her life. What she doesn't remember is how to live without them. But Penelope remembers the joy of bringing Landyn home, placing his little body into his crib. She remembers getting up to feed him throughout the night, rocking him back to sleep and kissing his little face. She remembers the feel of him as he grew stronger each passing day, when he began to wear newborn clothing, when he made it past what the Doctors originally gave him. When he lived...she remembers his smile, and the laughter that used to roll off of his lips. The sound floating to her now as a halting car splashes water onto her already soaked body.

She remembers his first word, as a pair of familiar arms wrap around her, lifting her to her feet and guiding her to the truck. She remembers his first steps as Luke wraps her in a blanket, turning the heat to full blast. She remembers his first birthday as he guides the truck back into his driveway, the other car suddenly missing. She remembers the way she would sit up in his room at night just to watch him breathe, just to make sure that he was still with them while Luke was off saving the world. She doesn't want to, but she remembers.

The sight of the room where her son had taken his first steps causes a scream to erupt from the woman, tearing her heart in half as he knees gave out from underneath her. And once again, Penelope finds herself sinking to the floor in this room, grief overcoming her as she remembers the loss their son.

Landyn wasn't here, but she remembers when he was.

* * *

 _But this is me swallowing my pride standing in front of you saying I'm sorry for that night. And I go back to December… It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you, wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine. I'd go back to December turn around and make it all right. I'd go back to December turn around and change my own mind._

* * *

She doesn't think when he covers her mouth with him, only reacts. Letting him lay her backwards on the floor, his body covering her own, distracting her. Trying to pull her from the depths of her mind, the one place she tried to never allow herself to go. It isn't often that she finds herself here, but there are pictures of him around this room, as if he actually existed. She tries to tell herself that it was all a dream, that her son was a figment of her imagination, because anything is easier than knowing that he's gone. She tries to tell herself that she was crazy, that she made it all up, but the scar on her stomach tells a different story. The photo album crammed under her couch tells a story of a life cut short, well before it's time. A story of a loving family, two parents and a kid, one who had his entire life ahead of him.

She doesn't think when he peels her dress off of her body, his lips continuing to kiss the exposed skin, as she remembers her son eating pancakes at the kitchen counter in his highchair, banging his bottle around in his excitement. She tries to tell herself that he's just sleeping upstairs, that these past two years were all made up, just a sick joke she played on herself. Ha ha, very funny Penelope, she tells herself as Luke pulls her onto his lap, sliding them against the couch. Trying relentlessly to pull a reaction from her. She doesn't stop the tears from flowing down her face as she remembers his last day with them.

They were paying attention, to this very day she knew that it was nothing that they did wrong. There was a fence around the pool, Luke had installed it himself. It was secure, they had tested it. They had called a fencing company out to double check the work, they knew it was nothing that they had done. But that didn't stop her from blaming herself, or him. If they had been paying more attention to him, if they didn't blink that day, if they weren't so consumed with desire for each other as they talked on the porch, watching their little boy run around the yard with Roxy. If they had only…

Life is a bunch of ifs, she tried to tell herself as Luke jumped in after him, tears streaming down her face as she clutched onto Roxy's collar, holding the dog back from jumping in as well. Life was unpredictable, she realized as she watched Luke perform round after round of cardiopulmonary resuscitation. Life fucking sucked, she realized when emergency medical services finally arrived, hooking her son up to a heart monitor. She remembered, in that moment, the joy she felt the first time she heard his heartbeat. And she remembers now the pain she felt when she could no longer hear it.

"He's gone, Luke," Penelope whispers, wrapping her arms around his neck as he encases her in a blanket.

"I know, Pen," he replies, his eyes shutting. She wonders if the pain is as fresh for him as it is for her. This time she holds him as he cries. "Please come home, I can't do this without you."

* * *

 _I go back to December all the time._


End file.
